Shoulders Back, Chin Up
by Faye M.A
Summary: Set immediately following Berk's victory against Drago, in which Hiccup has just been inaugurated as chief. Which also happens to be the one thing he's been actively avoiding for most of his life... Oneshot of Hiccup dealing with this new development in his life, especially in the wake of tragedy.


It took hours for the crowds—each member of which bearing a "Congratulations!" or a complimentary clap on the shoulder or, in some rare cases, a firm handshake that turned into a firmer hug—to dissipate. Hiccup did his best to maintain a genuine—or genuine-looking, at least—smile as the people of Berk wished him well; he had only been inaugurated as chief moments ago, after all. His first chiefly impression couldn't be a negative one. At least, that's what he told himself.

He wondered when they'd all realize. One day, they'd all one-by-one realize, just like he had realized, only in the slow ripple of the masses. It would start with the occasional query: "Where's Stoick?" And then, it would snowball into common knowledge because, as pained as the incident had left him, Gobber wasn't one to keep his mouth shut. And then people would look at Hiccup differently.

He still had trouble getting his head around it all, if he was honest with himself. Granted, it had only been an hour or so, but the title "chief" is a heavy one; coupled with the fact that, in the corner of his heart, he knew he was only chief by default, he was sure his new status would take a very, very long time to break in. For now, he simply accepted the accolades of the people— _his_ people—with the dignified air his father had possessed in full and tried to act happy about his position.

"Hey Hiccup!"

He turned around at the sound of his name, only to see Snotlout swaggering up to him in much the same way as usual—the way that usually portended a tactless insult or ignorant joke at Hiccup's expense. With a slightly tighter smile, Hiccup braced himself.

"I just want you to know that, if anything happens to you, I'm next in line for the chiefdom," Snotlout said, sounding very much pleased about such a fact, as though he had earned his place as Hiccup's cousin rather than just being born into it.

Hiccup couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Yeah, I know, 'Lout."

With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't overheard, Snotlout said quietly, so only Hiccup could hear, "I hope nothing happens to you." And just like that, he was gone, shuffling off with the rest of Berk to start rebuilding what Drago and his Bewilderbeast had destroyed.

Hiccup watched him go, trying to reconcile what he had just heard with the Snotlout he knew and (sometimes) loved. His dad's death had hit them all, he figured; each of them had their own mourning to do. Snotlout had lost an uncle, and, as much as he tried to hide it, Hiccup knew it hurt.

Gods, it hurt.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his head and, for a moment, his smile faltered before it quirked back into place. His mother slid in front of him, enfolding him in a hug that took him a second to reciprocate. "I'm so proud of you, Hiccup," she told him in his ear. "And I'm sorry it had to happen like this. You will do wonderful things for this tribe, I know it."

"You have to say that; you're my mom," he replied, only half-joking.

"Ah, yes I am," Valka told him. "What an honor." She stepped back, holding him at arm's length and surveying him through misty eyes. Her hand brushed his cheek lightly before she beamed at him and stepped aside, following Gobber toward the village, the pair of them the last to leave the cliff and head back toward the village.

All by himself at last, Hiccup let out a breath that he had been holding for a long while—he guessed since he had been proclaimed chief in the first place—and finally let his true emotions seep out into his expression.

It was all too much. Too much to even comprehend so fast. All at once, the gravity of everything that had occurred over the last couple days hit him, the force enough to make him stumble, almost tripping on his metal leg.

He never tripped over the leg any longer. He hadn't for years.

His ramrod posture vanished, and he crumpled in on himself, heaving breath after breath. Why did his eyes burn like this? What could crying possibly accomplish at a time like this? Nothing, that's what. But, when the tears started to sneak out of his eyes, he didn't try to stop them. Instead, he just let them fall. It was about time, he reasoned.

Slowly, he sunk to his knees, one hand holding his forehead, the other clenched stiffly at his side. "Dad," he muttered, "I'm not ready." He sniffed and pulled his hand from his head to catch the tear that was slipping down the bridge of his nose, tickling him annoyingly. Before he could find another place to put his hand, though, he caught a glimpse of it.

On his palm, etched in charcoal dust, was a perfect imprint of the mark that Gothi had drawn on his forehead, anointing him as chief.

For an instant in time, he considered scrubbing it roughly away on the leather of his flight suit. Just before he did, though, he stopped. With a sigh, he simply closed his fingers over the image instead, holding it close to his chest as though it was precious as a gem. "I'm not ready," he repeated. "I can't be a chief."

Then, something his father had once told him—something he had said five years ago, the first time Hiccup had tried to tell him that he didn't think he was cut out to be a dragon-slaying Viking like everybody else—surfaced in his memory: _But you will._

Behind him, he heard a pair of boots cautiously approaching over the soggy grass. He didn't want company right now, and he was about to tell the visitor so, until he heard her voice. The one person who hadn't approached him with well-wishes and congratulations; the one person who knew he didn't want to hear them. "Hey," Astrid said, stopping beside him, her foot tapping the ground beside him. "This seat taken?"

He shrugged, and she sat down. After a beat, she laid a hand on his knee. "It's a mess," she said bluntly, wiping a tear from his cheek with her free hand.

"You're telling me," Hiccup said. For a moment, the only sounds were the waves crashing on the sea stacks below them and the occasional call of a bird from overhead. Then, Hiccup opened his mouth, and the words came out on their own. "He always said how much he looked forward to this day. My whole life, I thought I'd become chief because my dad retired, and here I am: chief, but because . . ." He took a shaky breath. "And he's not even here to see it. And I can't say anything to anybody, because we just won against Drago, and they'll figure it out eventually without my help. It's exhausting, wearing a smile, Astrid."

Astrid didn't speak; instead, she grabbed a section of his hair and braided it to match the other two braids she had put there before. Then, she wrapped him in her arms, letting his head fall to her breast as he cried the last of his tears—for today, at least. There would be many more to come; both of them knew it. After his breathing relaxed to its normal pattern once more, she pressed her cheek to the top of his head. "Your dad loved you, Hiccup. Sure, he wasn't the best at showing it all the time, but you were his world. He always had faith that you would grow into the sort of leader Berk needs."

"Which, not too long ago, was a huge, beefy, dragon-killer," Hiccup added, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a miniscule smirk.

Astrid shook her head, the end of her braid brushing his face as she did. "Nope," she said. "That was never what Berk needed. The truth is, you were always the perfect successor. It just took your dad a while to realize that."

Hiccup swallowed thickly. "And the rest of the village," he quipped weakly. Then, he sighed. "I just wish dad could be here to see this. To help me get through this."

"And I know that, somewhere in Valhalla, your dad wishes the same thing," Astrid said gently, cupping his face in her hands and looking at him. "I know it's not the same, but you know you've always got me, right? And your mom, and Toothless. And . . . I guess you've got Gobber too, though I don't know how much help he'll actually be."

Hiccup let out a strangled laugh. "Yeah, I know," he said. He turned to look out over the water, and Astrid mirrored him, leaning into his side comfortingly. "It just . . . it doesn't seem fair though. For a couple hours, I had my family, Astrid. The way it should have been my whole life. Dad, mom, and Toothless. Even Gobber was there. I got to watch my parents fall in love all over again, and I . . . now I know what it feels like to stand between them or see them smile at each other or find pieces of myself in each of them. For a little while, I got to experience what it would be like to be part of a real family." He let out a small scoff. "I guess I should have known it was too good to be true."

"Hiccup," Astrid said, lacing her fingers through his, "you just said it yourself: it _was_ true. You found your mom. She wasn't dead, and you not only got to meet her, but you've got the rest of your life to get to know her. I bet she's hurting right now too, though. Maybe what you really need is to be there for one another."

He contemplated her words for a moment, and then, he sighed. "I just wish things would slow down so I could have a chance to get my head around it all."

"Slow down?" Astrid nudged him gently. "I never thought I'd hear you say those words, Mr. I-ride-a-Night-Fury." In spite of himself, he laughed a little at that, and she smiled a ghost of a smile.

"Somehow, free-falling from above the clouds seems more like a leisurely stroll right about now," he said, a touch of his usual self-deprecating, dry humor working its way back into his tone.

"I'm sure," she said sincerely, and she didn't say anything else.

In the silence of the world around them, Hiccup found it strangely easy to focus on Astrid's breathing, and he listened to it, counting out its rhythm in his head. The longer he listened, the more the world seemed to slow down, even if only for a moment. They sat for a long while, staring out at the ocean; slowly, Hiccup worked his arm around Astrid's waist, drawing her closer and clinging to the warmth of her body. It was something solid in a world that seemed to be viscous, changing around him every time he dared to blink.

Astrid settled back into his arms a little more, nestling her head under his chin. "Wanna get out of here?" she asked. "I know a couple dragons who'd love a lap to Changewing Island and back."

He felt himself smile at that. "I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
